


How To Train Your Agent

by bondboy68



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Smut, just porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 08:25:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bondboy68/pseuds/bondboy68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Have you ever been called a tease before?” </p><p>“Probably as many times as you’ve been called impatient.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Train Your Agent

**Author's Note:**

> This was me filling my need for dominate bottom Q and submissive top Bond. Cause not all doms have to top and not all subs have bottom. Let's mix it up a bit shall we? And I like Q being controlling and bossy.

Q was a stick. He was tiny. He probably weighed the same as a school girl if anybody cared to put him on a scale. He was geeky, too, spending all of his professional and personal time behind computers or designing and tweaking gadgets. Physically, he wasn’t intimidating in the least. It was a wonder he wasn’t mugged or kidnaped on the regular. And yet he was so cocky and sure of himself, like he could handle any situation thrown at him. 

Which was why James shouldn’t have been quite as surprised as he was when he found himself tied up in Q’s bedroom. Well, he didn’t exactly find himself that way. It wasn’t like he passed out and woke up naked and harder than he could ever remember being. He was aware of everything as it happened, he just wasn’t quite sure how it had all happened. 

It had started at MI6 after hours. James had returned from a mission and dropped a gift of two hand carved tiny tigers on Q’s desk, his new way of apologizing for not bringing back all of his equipment undamaged. Not that it really worked to get him any sort of forgiveness, but it did make it more likely that Q would give him another gun. He was immediately recruited by Moneypenny to join a group for a drink at the pub. Not something he normally considered, but the woman was terrifyingly insistent. 

Bond was pressed up against Q in a cramped booth as they ordered steady rounds of beer. At round two, Q’s hand landed on Bond’s leg. At first the man assumed it was an accident, but the hand didn’t move away. First, it just squeezed his thigh, whenever Q laughed or was agreeing with a point. Then it started moving up and down slowly, each time getting further up James’ leg. Whenever the agent glanced over to try and meet the other man’s eye, Q wasn’t looking at him. James kept an eye on the empty glasses in front of Q and wondered how much alcohol somebody of his body size could even handle. 

As the night wore on, members of their party began to peel away and head home. Across the table, Moneypenny was engaged in a heavy conversation with a pretty redhead from finance. Q’s fingers had been tracing abstract patterns on the inside of James’ thigh for a half an hour. 

“I’m surprised you came out with us, Bond” The younger man had no slur in his voice as he smirked at James. “This doesn't really seem like your type of place.” 

James took a long drink. “Any place is my place,” he smirked back. Q’s hand squeezed. James lowered his voice. “What exactly are you doing?” 

“Are you complaining?” 

“That depends.” James took the man’s hand and moved it to another part of his anatomy. “On where you’re planning on going after this.”

Q smirked and squeezed James’ half-hard cock through his pants, unashamed. “Oh, I’m going home. But you’re welcome to join.” 

James was amused. “Why your place?”

Q picked up his glass and drained it easily. “Because I said so.” He leaned over, nearly pressing his lips against James’ ear as he spoke. “I want you to fuck me, Mr. Bond.” 

If the agent hadn’t be interested before, he was now. Q had his full and complete attention for the rest of the night, as far as he was concerned. He threw a handful of bills on the table to help cover the tab, and said a quick goodbye to Moneypenny as he pulled on his coat (she barely even noticed, maybe he wouldn’t be the only one not going home alone that night). He tugged a smug-looking Quartermaster out of the pub and quickly hailed a cab. 

“Eager, 007?” Q purred, sliding his fingers through the hair on the back of Bond’s head. 

“I just want to be sure we have plenty of time,” the man replied smoothly. 

Q nodded, eyes dark. “Time is good.” 

When they climbed in the back of the cab, Q gave instructions to his flat and Bond tossed enough money to cover the trip and then some at the cabbie. He had decided he wanted to spend the ride sucking on Q’s neck and paying in advance helped with not getting interrupted. But as soon as he pressed his lips to Q’s jaw the man pushed him away.

“Don’t you dare.”

Bond frowned. He wasn’t used to hearing the word ‘no’. “Why not?” 

Q straightened his collar, eyes forward. “Unlike some people I actually have to go into the office on the regular and work with the same people every day, and they don’t need to be subjected to me looking like an octopus tried to strangle me in my sleep. So you’ll keep your mouth to yourself until I tell you otherwise.” 

Bond tried to lean forward, into Q. “You can’t tell me what to do.” 

Q stopped him with a smirk and hand on his throat. “Actually, I can. And I do so quite often. Now be a good boy and listen to your Quartermaster.” He didn’t have enough cash to give the cabbie in order to do what he wanted to do to Q right then, so Bond resigned himself to leaning back in the seat. Q smirked. “Good boy.” 

They pulled up to Q’s flat without any form of touching or groping having happened and now Bond was annoyed and slightly disappointed. “Come along, 007,” Q chirped as he slid out of the cab. Bond followed, waiting for Q to unlock the door. Once they were inside, he made to grab Q and slam him against the door, but the other boy surprised him by anticipating the move and instead Bond found himself being on the receiving end of some remarkable strength and agility. He was pressed against the door, his chest and cheek crushed into the wood, and his arms twisted behind him. Q stepped up close, mouth near the agent’s ear. 

“No, no, 007. That won’t do. You might have been a Commander on your ship but here I outrank you.” Bond snorted, not really believing the situation, and Q twisted his arms. “Get used to thinking of me as your Admiral, 007.” Q released him and backed away. Bond slowly turned, frowning. “Bedroom. Upstairs, first door on the right.” When the agent didn’t move he quirked an eyebrow. “Unless you’d rather leave?” He had half a mind to do that. James Bond wasn’t used to be bossed around. But his cock had grown unmistakably hard again while he’d been pressed against the door. So with a huff he began to stomp up the stairs. 

It was dark, of course, but he didn’t bother turning on any lights. If Q wanted to be in charge then let him handle everything. Bond found the bed in the darkness and sat on the edge of it, waiting. Soon enough Q appeared in the doorway and fiddled with the lights, which seemed to be set on a dimmer. He put them on low, just enough so that they wouldn’t bump into anything. 

“Clothes off.” Q was using the same voice he used during intense missions. No humor, short and clipped, serious. Bond was used to following Q’s commands to a tee when he used that voice. Not doing so generally meant a very bad situation. So he began to remove his jacket. He looked Q up and down as he loosened his tie.

“What about you?”

“Soon enough. I want to watch you first.” Q was smirking and Bond could never disappoint an audience. The other man didn’t seem to mind as the agent took his time, sliding off his tie and letting it drop to the floor, and slowly undoing each button on his shirt. Q licked his lips when Bond shrugged his shirt off his shoulders. 

“Like what you see?” 

“Indeed. A perfect specimen of MI6 training.” 

Bond stood up to remove his trousers. “Is that all I am to you?” he asked, not at all hurt. 

Q just smirked back as Bond dropped his trousers and kicked them away along with his shoes. He hook his thumbs in the waistband of his pants, and there Q stopped him. “That’s enough.” The younger stepped forward and without warning dropped to his knees in front of Bond. The agent looked down, watching as Q slowly pulled down his pants, freeing Bond’d half-hard cock. “A perfect specimen,” he whispered, leaning forward to flick his pink tongue over the tip. 

Bond held back a gasp. “What am I, a science experiment?” Q ignored him still and leaned forward, sliding his lips over the head of Bond’s cock. His hands moved to grab Q’s hair and were instantly tugged away and pinned at his sides. The younger man had a surprisingly strong grip. Bond was forced to stand still while Q licked over his cock, moving lower to suck on his balls, holding the older man’s hands and hips still. “Q...” The younger man bit his thigh sharply. “Ow!”

“No talking.” 

“You have an awful lot of rules.” 

“If you would relax, 007, I think you’d find you enjoy them.” He dropped his mouth over Bond’s cock after that, sucking him deeply into his mouth. The agent threw his head back and bit back a curse, because he was worried if he did the man would stop. He looked down, watching as Q pulled away and then plunged back down, bobbing on Bond’s rapidly growing cock. He pulled away and Bond could see his cheeks were flushed. “Lay on the bed.” Q’s voice was rough and dark, the same commanding tone as before. Bond sat on the bed, moving to the middle and lying down on his back. Q crawled over him, still clothed, and straddled his waist. When Bond moved to run his hands up the other man’s thighs they were pinned again, this time to the bed on either side of his head. 

“Do you not like being touched?” 

“I like being in control.” Q’s thumbs were rubbing Bond’s wrists in small circles. He leaned down and brushed his lips over the agent’s jaw, and Bond felt a shiver go through him. Being constantly thrown off and rerouted was making him feel more sensitive and vulnerable. “I especially like being in control of rowdy, dominating, perverse double-ohs.” 

Bond smirked. “Where are we going to find one of those?” Q smirked back and leaned away, opening a drawer. Bond’s eyes widened in mild surprise when he pulled out several long scarves. 

“What’s wrong, Bond? Afraid of trying something new?” 

“I thought I was supposed to be fucking you.”

Q grinned and bit down lightly on Bond’s bottom lip; not technically a kiss. “You will be.” He made Bond move his arms to above his head and tied each of his wrists to the headboard. When he was done, he settled on top of him again, straddling Bond with his clothed ass not-accidentally rubbing the man’s erection. “I like seeing you like this, Mr. Bond.” If the agent had any suspicions about Q’s loyalties they would arising just then. “It’s not so hard to be a good boy, is it?” Bond bucked his hips upward in annoyance, and in return Q grabbed his nipple hard. Bond arched and bit back a groan. “Now behave, 007.” He leaned down and began running his lips over the man’s chest. He paused at every scar, licking over it and pressing hard kisses to healing bruises leftover from his last mission. When he moved onto the agent’s nipples, Bond realized just how good Q was at tying knots. He pulled against the restraints, his untouched cock hard as Q attacked him with teeth and tongue and nimble fingers. 

“Have you ever been called a tease before?” Bond bit out, trying to seek more contact. Q laughed. 

“Probably as many times as you’ve been called impatient.” He pinched Bond’s nipple again and sat up, finally unbuttoning his own shirt. Bond watched with hungry, eager eyes. Under all those layers he had never realized before just how skinny Q was. He was all smooth, pale skin and sharp collarbones. As he dropped the shirt to the side and inhaled, Bond wondered if he’d be able to count the boy’s ribs with just his eyes. Q smiled and took off his glasses, setting them on the bedside table carefully. He leaned over the other man, pushing his fingers through Bond’s short hair. “Do you like what you see, 007?” 

“I’d like it more if I could do as I wish to it...” 

Q smirked, sitting up straight. “Maybe later.” He scraped his nails down Bond’s chest and as the man arched and groaned he realized he was in bed with a possible sadist. A very controlling possible sadist. He took a second to take stock of how much he minded and came to the conclusion that; not much. Q climbed off the bed. “One moment.” Bond pulled at the restraints. Still tied perfectly. He was very much at Q’s mercy. But he’d been at Q’s mercy before, during missions when one door meant safety and another meant certain death. Or a wire, or window, or weapon. Q always kept him safe, and he trusted him. “You alright, Bond?” He looked over, surprised that the other had now stripped bare while he’d been lost in thought. 

Bond smiled. “Exceedingly.” 

Q grinned back. “Don’t fret, the fun part is coming up.” 

Bond wondered if this was the fun part as he watched Q’s face while the kneeled over him, fingering himself open and moaning loudly, or if something even better was coming. He was completely lost in Q’s sounds and face, his own body not being touched at all but his cock harder than he could remember it being. He was holding onto the scarves that bound him with white knuckles. 

“You look tense, 007,” Q smirked down at him. “You should really try and relax.” 

Bond groaned and tossed his head back. “I’ve slept with and then killed people in less time than it takes you to get ready.” 

Q chuckled. “Won’t it all be worth it?”

“It better,” Bond growled. Q laughed again and leaned down to lick his lips, staying just out of reach. 

“It will.” He had apparently finished with his own preparations and reached back to grab Bond’s neglected cock. The agent moaned and involuntarily bucked into the man’s hand. “Such a good boy,” Q praised, running his free hand over Bond’s chest. “Staying so still for me.” Bond wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill Q or just get his revenge by tying him down next. Q turned around and Bond focused on all the things he could do to Q’s ass once he was not tied down. He was vaguely aware of Q’s fingers on his cock, the unmistakable roll of a condom. Q turned back around and hovered with a smirk. He met Bond’s eye, and in them the agent could see a dare to be defiant. He stood very still, ready to play the game if it meant finally getting off. “Good boy,” Q whispered as he slowly slid down. Bond grit his teeth at the sudden heat and tightness. When he looked up at Q’s face, the younger was biting his lip, eyes shut. 

“Maybe you should have a taken a couple extra minutes.”

“I was worried you might pop a blood vessel.” Bond would have chuckled but Q was taking a deep breath and slowly relaxing, and soon the agent was completely inside him. Bond groaned, watching Q. The younger finally opened his eyes and smiled at him. He rocked his hips slowly. It was all a giant test of Bond’s self control, he realized, and he wondered if that was what Q got off on. But he couldn’t deny that it felt fucking fantastic and having to hold back and knowing he may get some small reward for it added a layer to the sensations. Q moved his hips like a practiced pro, it was amazing and nowhere near enough. 

Q rested his hands on Bond’s chest, breath heavy and sweat glistening on his forehead. “Alright, you’ve been a good boy. Show me what you’ve got.” And with that permission, Bond thrust his hips up, setting a harsh, quick rhythm, almost like his intent was to buck Q completely off him. Q, for his part, took it just as good as he’d given, when he’d teased Bond while only minimally touching his cock. The younger man dug his nails into Bond’s chest and dragged them down, making the agent hiss and arch, his wrists and arms sore from being bound. Bond thrust up hard and Q leaned back with a loud moan, grabbing onto Bond’s knees. 

“Oh, fuck, right there, Bond. Fuck!” Bond tried to keep up the steady pace, despite having no good leverage. He planted his feet on the bed, his abs aching. Q was stroking himself now, steady streams of moans and curse words coming out of his mouth. The agent was fairly certain that in his current position there was a chance of him tearing his arms out of their sockets, but he focused instead on thrusting into Q the best that he could. The hand that wasn’t on his own cock was holding onto Bond’s knee as Q rode him beautifully. 

Q’s sudden orgasm triggered Bond’s own, and his hips snapped up to bury himself completely inside the other as he cursed quietly. The intensity turned his vision white and he blissed out long enough for Q to collapse on his chest and be smiling happily by the time he regained his vision and knowledge of the outside world around him. Q grinned up at him, kissing the agent’s chest. 

“I’m sure I’ll have you trained proper in no time.” 

Bond wasn’t sure he had the mental capacity to process what that meant in his current state. “May I have my arms back?” he asked. Q untied him easily and helped to rub life back into his sore muscles. Bond was surprised how much they were shaking from the prolonged strain of their previous position. But he still managed to grab Q around the waist and turn him over, pinning the younger under him and kissing him properly on the mouth. Q returned the kiss with lazy enthusiasm. Out of breath, sore, and exhausted, Bond pulled away and rested his head on Q’s chest. The man ran his fingers through his short hair, massaging his scalp. 

“They need to put sadist in your file,” Bond muttered, eyes closed and already half asleep. “Dominating, seductive sadist.” He felt Q chuckle under him. 

“Oh, 007. You have no idea...”


End file.
